Il Dolore di Amore
by The Oddity
Summary: Look for the girl standing in the snow. She is there, always, a constant reminder of the pain of love, and she is alive in us all.


Look for the girl standing in the snow, her head tilted at an angle so you can't see her eyes. The gust of icy wind that picks up her black overcoat, failing miserably to tug it off her shoulders. The world is nothing but shades of gray around her, but she only sees in black and white. "Any friend of Mr. Lauro's, _I suppose_, is a friend of mine," she believed. And anyone he had nothing to do with was her enemy. If only her eyes could have been opened. Always, always, they were shut tight, blocking out her peers, focusing on what mattered to her: _Lauro, Lauro, Lauro._ He dominated her thoughts, ruled her beliefs, controlled her life.

It was a strange dream for Henrietta, considering how frequently it occurred. At some point, the face of Elsa deSica sat suspended between the screaming of her nightmares and the added insecurity of tears. But she always returned to it, whether sparked by the gun rattling in her arms during target practice, walking past the lonesome dormitory in the hallway, or after hours when she was in bed, waiting for sleep to come take her away. She never told anyone. It wasn't out of determination to keep her life private from her friends or Giuseppe, or stubbornness; it was something she felt was personal. "This is a matter between Elsa and myself," she mumbled, shook with tiny sobs, hunched over her bunk.

Oh, _outwardly_, she was fine. Doing her chores, following her schedule, and carrying out missions. 'A day in the life of Henrietta Croce', one could say, although she was hardly the Agency's greatest success story. But every day she was afraid of forgetting Elsa. The blonde girl was a voice in her heart now, Henrietta couldn't deny it, but not permanently ingrained in her memory. "Well, maybe I'll just remember her name," she thought. "Elsa. Elsa, Elsa, Elsa… Elsa deSica…"

Look for the girl in the black overcoat, whose braids can barely be made out against the snowy backdrop. She appears, closer than she has ever been before. Henrietta steps forward, then shrieks. She is barefoot, barefoot in _snow_, of all things. She looks down at herself. One shoddy, vaguely bloodstained and aged garment bearing similarities to what was at one point in time a nice, simplistic navy dress feebly adorning her tiny body. Her brown hair at her elbows, but her bangs remain the same. _Where am I?_ _Who am I?_

A single voice bellows from her heart. "Elsa deSica." The figure in black is as motionless and unwavering as always.

_I'm Elsa deSica? This is my name?_

"You are Elsa deSica."

"Henrietta. Henrietta, wake up."

A man forces her back into reality. He shakes her shoulders, bandaged as they are. She opens an eye and sees his face and is caught, mysteriously, between a knee-jerk reaction and one of pure elation; like a cloud she could simply ride on. But the next words that come out of her mouth are unlike any he has ever heard.

"Who is Henrietta?"

"Giuseppe, get away from her."

"N-no. You're Henrietta. You remember me."

"No, I don't."

"I'm telling you to get away from her, let the doctors handle this."

"_Shut up!_ Henrietta, Henrietta…" Her name comes out in a near-whimper of helplessness. "My name, you remember my name. It's Giuseppe."

"I know your name, but I don't know _you_," she insists politely.

"Alright, let's try something…something else…" the man mumbles. "What is your name?" he asks.

"Elsa deSica."

He stares, mouth agape. "Why…"

"I don't know, it's the first name that I thought of. I guess it's…"

"What? What is it?"

"…Who are you?"

------------------

Dawn encroaches steadily upon the courtyard and yet the lonely man has still not moved from his position on one of the benches. He sits, drooping his head; such a shadow of his former self that nobody dare approach him. They know he revels in happier times.

"Wait over there, Reyes. And don't make any movement whatsoever."

"Yes, sir."

Giuseppe looks up. His brother towers over him, not concerned but more lightly intrigued, and behind him at a short distance away, a tall girl with hair the shade of a faded red apple stands stock-still in the frigid weather, completely and undeniably obeying her handler's orders. He feels a rush of something akin to amazement and jealousy all at one moment, until his brother's voice deters him from his focus.

"I imagine you're having a enjoyable time sitting out here in the cold weather," Jean says, hands in his pockets.

"Henrietta…have they…how is…"

"…I'm sorry, Giuseppe."

"So they…euthanized her, then."

"It was for her own good. Her condition would have only worsened dramatically as the days went by—"

"Save it, Jean," Giuseppe cuts him off, rising from the bench. He dusts off the snow that had settled on the front of his jeans. "All of their conditions worsened. And all of them were killed in the end, weren't they?"

"At least it wasn't for nothing."

He finds his eyes drawn back to Reyes, still frozen in snow. "Call off your cyborg before she suffers from hypothermia."

"Reyes, you can move."

"Yes, sir," she replies monotonously, and her arms regain their life immediately. She stretches her fingers and breathes in the winter air deeply.

"Listen, Jean. It's not as if I don't appreciate your efforts. But I…just want to be left alone right now, all right?"

"…Very well. Let's go, Reyes." The blond turns on-heel and exits the courtyard with his protégée close behind him. Giuseppe watches them grow more and more distant, and can hear his brother's voice echo in the vast confines to Reyes: _"I bought you a reward for your good work on the last mission."_

A figure looming in the distance catches his eye, short in stature and cloaked in black. It lifts its head up, revealing the face of a young girl, eyes warmed by tears, and before Giuseppe can say a word, the apparition is swept away with the breeze.


End file.
